by Anne Doughty
Unlike Hannah’s wedding day, when the old gardener had correctly predicted it would clear before noon, the rain continued all morning. It was still drizzling when the family coach arrived from Ashleigh to add its capacity to the vehicles at Cleeve and it persisted all through the drive, strengthening to a heavy downpour as they arrived at Ashleigh itself.
‘Oh my poor little ones, what a day. Run. Run quickly up the steps. Grandpa is there waiting for you and Mrs Partridge has a lovely tea for you.’
Sarah followed the children to the door of the coach as they greeted Grandma Anne, their voices high with excitement. They splashed down into the puddles and ran cheerfully through them towards the house. A warm, dry hand steadied her as she herself stepped down to the sodden gravel and embraced Anne who was wearing what looked like a coachman’s cape and a large pair of wellington boots.
‘Sarah dear, I’m so glad to see you here again. Do go on up with Simon while I go and say hello to Hannah and Teddy.’
It was only then Sarah discovered that the large umbrella moving overhead, attempting to shelter both Lady Anne and herself from the worst of the rain, was being held by a tall, dark-haired figure who peered down at them both with a slight, diffident smile.
As Anne shot away through the puddles he nodded to her, offered his arm and marched her smartly through the confusion of grooms and house staff, who were collecting luggage all around them. He said not a word till they reached the shelter of the portico at the top of the steps.
‘Rather poor weather for photography, I fear,’ he said soberly.
Sarah laughed heartily.
‘I do remember you now,’ she said happily. ‘They’ve teased me unmercifully, because I thought I couldn’t. But I don’t remember you being taller than I was,’ she added, looking up at him, a puzzled look on her face.
‘That is quite simple to explain,’ he said, pausing to shake the umbrella thoroughly before stepping into the carpeted entrance hall with her. ‘I spent a great deal of time at your feet. I assure you, you looked through your lens much more often than you looked down at the humble servant who was steadying the tripod,’ he said, his dark eyes now shining with merriment as he made her a deep bow.
‘Oh dear, was I so dreadfully rude?’ she asked easily, amused and delighted by his manner.
‘Good heavens no,’ he retorted vigorously. ‘Simply devoted to the matter in hand, with commendable application. As I should be at this moment,’ he added hastily, as he excused himself and hurried back outside into the rain.
‘Sarah, my dear.’
At the sound of a familiar voice, Sarah turned and found herself looking at Harrington. Her smile faded and she felt her heart sink as she observed a man much changed from the one who had greeted her four years ago. His face deeply lined, his shoulders drooped, his gait a little unsteady, nevertheless he embraced her warmly and led her through to the downstairs sitting room where she’d once photographed her mother and Lady Anne sitting side-by-side on the window seat.
‘I think you’ve brought some real Irish weather with you,’ he said cheerfully, as he reached for the bell rope by the side of the blazing log fire. ‘This reminds me of Sligo,’ he announced, as his wife reappeared, trickles of rain dripping from her cape, arm in arm with Teddy and Hannah.
‘Yes, but in Sligo it could go on for days,’ Lady Anne threw back at him, laughing. ‘I’ll only be a few minutes,’ she said, nodding to the housekeeper and housemaids, who had just appeared bearing wide silver trays laden with china, scones and cake. ‘Please do pour, Mrs Partridge, but even I cannot have tea in wellington boots,’ she said, blowing a kiss to her guests as she hurried out.
Sarah watched her stride across the pretty sitting room, bowls of summer flowers glowing on the well-polished furniture, a small, incongruous shape enveloped in a sodden cape who moved so quickly she nearly collided with a dark figure coming into the room.
‘Sorry, Simon, didn’t see you,’ she said breathlessly. ‘Thank you for rescuing Mademoiselle. Now do go and have tea. And get Teddy to introduce you properly to Sarah. It appears he neglected his duty most dreadfully when last you met. But then we must forgive him, mustn’t we? Bridegrooms are so unreliable.’
Smiling broadly, Sarah turned to look at Teddy who had caught his mother’s departing remark. To her surprise, she found he was watching her carefully. Immediately he caught her glance he grinned, came over to her and took her by the hand.
‘Sarah, my dear,’ he began with a bow, ‘I should like to introduce to you my closest and oldest friend, Simon Hadleigh,’ he said, firmly, as if determined there should be no failure of manners this time. ‘Simon, I apologise for my former neglect,’ he went on in the same sober tone. ‘This is my dear sister-in-law, Sarah Sinton.’
For the second time that afternoon, Sarah felt her cold hand gripped firmly, but gently, in a warm, dry one.
‘How do you do? I’ve heard so much about you.’
They both spoke at the same time, their voices so perfectly in harmony that Harrington and Teddy laughed heartily.
‘Well, I hope I’ve done it properly this time,’ Teddy said, looking across at Hannah. ‘You’ve no idea how I’ve been scolded, Sarah, for my perceived neglect.’
‘My poor Teddy,’ Sarah said, her tone heavy with irony. ‘We all know what a difficult time you have with my sister, but it’s all my fault really,’ she added cheerfully. ‘If Simon will forgive me, I think I can manage to forgive you and then we can all have tea,’ she added, laughing happily, as Lady Anne came back into the room, still looking somewhat dishevelled, but wearing a most elegant tea gown.
CHAPTER TWELVE
‘Yes, he is delightful company and I do like him very much,’ Sarah replied in answer to her sister’s question. ‘But there’s something I want to ask you.’
‘Yes, I thought you might,’ Hannah said, smiling, as she sat back in the window seat of Sarah’s small, upstairs sitting room three days after their arrival at Ashleigh Park. ‘I’ll answer what I can,’ she replied, nodding, ‘but there are things about Simon I have always found puzzling,’ she admitted, her face muscles tensing slightly.
‘Well, that makes two of us, sister dear,’ Sarah began lightly. ‘Last week, when you heard that Simon was going to join us at Ashleigh you warned me not to ask him about his work,’ she said matter-of-factly. ‘You also said he was very reticent, so reticent that occasionally he might seem quite rude, but I haven’t noticed any reticence. Just the reverse, in fact. He told us those wonderful stories about being a very junior secretary in Paris and having no idea about the liaisons going on around him. And then he told us about the move to Petersberg and the problems he had with the Countess Fedyanova,’ she ended, raising her eyebrows and bursting out laughing.
Hannah nodded and laughed too.
‘Yes, I see your point, Sarah,’ she said, still smiling.
Simon’s account of his attempts to divert the advances of an elderly Russian lady had kept them entertained the previous evening over a very pleasant dinner. And although he had made them laugh, he had also made no secret of the seriousness of the situation, for the Count was an important person with whom Simon had just managed to develop a promising professional relationship.
‘You do always notice things, don’t you?’ Hannah declared, with a little half smile. ‘Anyone else would have been so enjoying themselves, they’d have forgotten what I said, or thought I was just misunderstanding the man or being silly about him. That bit of you hasn’t changed,’ she ended thoughtfully, as she glanced out at the gardens where the flowers in the formal beds had recovered from their drenching and now raised hundreds of bright faces to the morning sun.
Sarah waited patiently as her sister stood up, leant out of the window and waved to the small troupe of children dispersing across the sunlit lawns. Judging by the pieces of paper they were clutching, it looked as if they might be engaged on another of Mademoiselle’s totally absorbing treasure hunts.
‘Simon’
s given Teddy and I a bit of a surprise these last few days,’ Hannah went on, turning back towards the room, the sunlight catching her still fair hair. ‘I’ll have to go back a bit to explain properly.’
‘Right,’ said Sarah, nodding vigorously as she settled herself to listen.
‘Well, you probably know that Teddy’s actually a year older than Simon, even though they were contemporaries at Cambridge,’ she began. ‘Simon’s very bright, so he went up early, but he was dreadfully shy. Even worse than Teddy was, if you can imagine that,’ she added ruefully. ‘But he and Teddy took to each other immediately, just like you and Lady Anne when you first met. Having the same problem brought them very close. Then Teddy met me.’
Sarah nodded encouragingly.
‘Soon after we were married, Simon came to stay. It was a very happy visit. He seemed perfectly at ease with me as long as Teddy wasn’t too far away,’ she went on. ‘But I did notice that when Marianne came to join us, he couldn’t cope at all.’
Hannah opened her hands in a despairing gesture. Teddy’s sister was a dear friend to them both and it would be hard to imagine a young woman less threatening to a shy man, for Marianne had all of her mother’s good nature and just as little regard for formality. Besides, she was full of fun and quite incapable of being unkind to anyone who didn’t deserve it.
‘Just before Simon was due to leave,’ Hannah said looking very directly at Sarah, ‘he had a letter from the Foreign Office offering him a post in Vienna. Teddy was absolutely delighted. He knew Simon’s languages were good, but he still thought it was a remarkable offer for one so young. He urged Simon to take it.’
‘And did he?’
‘Yes, he did. And he made a great beginning.’
Hannah paused, a strange bleakness came into her expression.
‘Oh dear, what went wrong?’
‘Nothing at all, professionally. That’s what makes it so sad. Almost as soon as he arrived in Vienna, he met a young woman and fell madly in love with her. They were married within weeks. About six months later, Simon was sent on an assignment to Berlin. He had to be away for several weeks. When he got back, he found his wife had died in childbirth. She’d already been buried in the English cemetery with her baby.’
‘Oh Hannah, how awful,’ Sarah gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. ‘What a dreadful thing to happen. Poor man,’ she said, tears springing to her eyes.
Hannah bit her lip and took a deep breath.
‘There was worse to come, Sarah,’ she warned, her voice darkening. ‘The Ambassador had tried to keep it quiet, but it appeared the child was not Simon’s. His wife was from a well-known Viennese family, but she’d had an affair just before he arrived. It was quite widely known that Simon had made a convenient father,’ she said flatly. ‘There was no hope of keeping it quiet.’
Sarah said nothing, perfectly aware of what such a scandal would mean in the small British community of a European capital.
‘Another man might have coped better than Simon, but it drove him to the edge of breakdown,’ Hannah went on. ‘His ambassador sent him to Berlin, to get him away from the gossip, but he didn’t let us know what had happened or where he was. When he didn’t come home on leave, poor Teddy couldn’t imagine what was wrong. We actually began to think he didn’t want to see us again. Eventually, after two years, we had a letter from Paris. He did apologise for not writing and when he came to stay, he told us something of what had happened. The sad thing was, he was no longer the Simon we had known.’
‘Oh Hannah, how awful for you,’ said Sarah quickly. ‘And I expect Teddy managed to feel responsible for encouraging him to take the job in the first place,’ she went on more thoughtfully, as Hannah sat silent, her eyes downcast, as if she couldn’t bear to say any more.
‘Of all the problems I’ve had with my dear Teddy, that one was the worst,’ Hannah went on, collecting herself. ‘He blamed himself for encouraging Simon to go to Vienna when he was so awkward with people he didn’t know. If Simon had stayed in London, Teddy would have been able to keep in touch. What really upset him, though, was that he didn’t even know where Simon was, just when he needed a friend most.’
‘But surely Simon could have contacted him if he’d wanted to,’ Sarah replied. ‘There was no breach between them, was there? Teddy would have helped him.’
‘Of course he would,’ said Hannah, nodding. ‘As I pointed out many times,’ she went on wearily, ‘for those two years, Simon needed to do whatever he did by himself. His confidence had been shattered. He had to put himself together again.’
‘He seems to have done a good job of it,’ Sarah said quietly.
‘Yes, indeed. He does seem to have,’ Hannah responded, smiling broadly, ‘but I can promise you he wasn’t like this when he came last year. I can honestly say I’ve never seen Simon as happy as he’s been these last few days.’
‘Yes, he tells a good story,’ Sarah replied, glancing away from her. ‘But there’s more to him than an amusing man with charming manners. He listens very carefully and his eyes never stop moving …’
She broke off, puzzled by the expression on her sister’s face.
‘It’s so lovely to have you here, Sarah,’ said Hannah unexpectedly. ‘I do love Teddy so dearly, and the children are a joy, but sometimes I so wish you and I could have tea together and solve all our problems like we used to do.’
‘With damson jam?’
Hannah nodded and said nothing.
‘What made you think of that just now, Hannah?’
‘I was thinking of what Teddy confessed last night. He says he’s never seen Simon so relaxed or so forthcoming in all the time he’s known him.’
She paused and looked out the window.
‘He thinks it’s because of you.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you my sister dear,’ she said more firmly. ‘And I have to say that Simon has brought my sister back to me as well. You’re a different person from the good, brave woman who arrived at Cleeve Station three and a half weeks ago.’
‘Am I?’ demanded Sarah, startled.
‘Yes. You’ve remembered how to laugh and you make everyone else laugh too. I haven’t felt as happy in months.’
‘Oh Hannah, how are we going to manage without the damson jam?’
‘I think we must try to see each other more often,’ Hannah replied promptly. ‘Perhaps with the children a little older, it will be easier. Teddy never minds me going over to see you, though he says he does mind me going to see anyone else,’ she added laughing.
Sarah nodded thoughtfully. The prospect of seeing Hannah more often was a great comfort, but what Hannah said next both startled and confused her.
‘If you came to me in London, it would mean you could see Simon too. I think that would be a good idea, don’t you?’
After the memorable rain storm that greeted their arrival at Ashleigh Park, the week that followed was in marked contrast. Soft, dew-laden dawns gave way to fresh mornings and warm afternoons, the build-up of heat from a cloudless sky tempered by the lightest of breezes. Dusk fell slowly, full of the perfume of flowers that bloomed all the more generously after their unexpected soaking. The late evening was especially lovely, the sky velvet-dark, pricked with myriads of bright stars, until the moon rose and dimmed them with the radiance of its silvery light.
Sitting late at night by her open window, the moonlight flooding down on the gardens beyond, Sarah thought again about what Hannah had said that morning. Much had remained unspoken between them, but some things were clear. That Hannah missed her, as much as she missed Hannah and that she thought Sarah should continue her friendship with Simon.
For a time, Sarah cast her mind back to her life at Rathdrum, her parents and Alex and the work that bound them all to the four Sinton mills. She saw the large figure of her brother Sam, standing in the doorway of Ballydown, Martha and Uncle Joe in the kitchen of Liskeyborough, the shouts of barefoot children playing in the orchard. She looked out at the moo
nlight garden and pushed her sad and troubled thoughts firmly from her mind.
‘So few days left,’ she said to herself, as she recalled the pleasures that had followed her quiet morning with Hannah.
‘And what exactly do you do at the mills, Sarah?’
She could hear Simon’s voice as they walked in the rose garden after lunch with Teddy and Hannah.
‘Hannah’s told me how hard you work,’ he went on, ‘but I’ve failed to get her to explain exactly what you do.’
‘Sometimes I wonder myself,’ she replied, her tone flatter than she’d intended.
To her surprise, Simon laughed.
‘That’s something else we appear to have in common,’ he said easily. ‘The harder I work, the less outcome there appears to be. Perhaps you suffer that as well?’
‘I’ve been told I mustn’t ask about your work,’ she replied smiling.
‘Who told you that?’
‘Hannah and Teddy, of course. Who else?’
‘Well I expect they mean to be kind,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘So much of what I do is so boring.’
Sarah laughed heartily.
‘Goodness, I thought it was because it was a matter of national security. Or that you’d think I was a spy.’
‘A spy,’ he repeated, delightedly. ‘Most of the spies I know are fat old gentlemen with gout. Now one like you might be a real threat. I’d be tempted to tell her all about my elegant, luxurious and terribly tedious life.’
‘Do you know many spies?’ she asked, wondering if he was teasing her again.
‘Oh yes, occupational hazard of the job,’ he said, peering cautiously behind a rosebush.
‘Oh Simon, I don’t know when I last laughed so much,’ she said, as he straightened up again. ‘Are you always so funny, or is it the sunshine after a good lunch and it being the holidays?’